Chapter 165
He considered using the crossbow on it but held off, thinking it was too big. It was nearly the size of an elephant, and one or two arrows wouldn't bring it down. Besides, the other herbivores might sense the threat to life and attack, so he needed to finish the hunt as quickly as possible. He'd seen it once on an animal documentary—buffalo herds mercilessly killing a lion. Herbivores didn't just run away. Impalas and gnus fled, but massive beasts like rhinos, buffaloes, hippos, and giraffes always fought back against carnivores, launching counterattacks. That's why so many predators died during hunts.
Han Yaseong didn't want to end up like that, so he looked for other prey.
"Yadong, we gotta catch something small. Like a chicken or a pig... Too big and it's hard to take down."
Muttering to himself like that, he searched for smaller game. After a while, he spotted something in the distance that resembled a chicken. It looked sort of like an ostrich, but compared to the other massive animals, its body was relatively small. No, among the creatures on this vast plain—excluding juveniles—it seemed the smallest. A pig-sized calf would have been ideal, but he couldn't bring himself to hunt something only a few months old, so he'd left them alone. Of course, the fear of the mother attacking played a part too.
Yadong seemed to like the ostrich-chicken too; it moved with a dagger in its mouth, gripped by its saber teeth.
Han Yaseong and Yadong crouched low and dashed across the blue plains. The other giant animals grazing with heads down glanced over but paid little attention, as Han Yaseong and Yadong were so small.
Han Yaseong gripped the crossbow with both hands and closed in to within about five meters. Yadong waited at his side, dagger in mouth. They were both giving it their all just for a taste of meat.
The giant ostrich-chickens lifted their heads and stared blankly. Some didn't even bother looking, turning away to graze. They felt no threat from Han Yaseong and Yadong at all. Being unfamiliar creatures only heightened that.
Han Yaseong swallowed hard and aimed at the back of one ostrich-chicken that had turned away, stretching its long neck down to eat grass. Catching just that one would fill him up for days. If preserved well, it could last over a week. Next time, he should look up meat preservation methods online. But even as he aimed the crossbow, the thought of taking a life made his hands tremble subtly. He'd killed mosquitoes and flies before, but never a dog or a chicken. Now, trying to kill something bigger—an ostrich-chicken—his hands shook with tension on their own. A twinge of guilt crept in too.
Do I really have to kill it just to eat meat...? Back in that world, he'd eaten chicken and pork belly without a second thought, but never killed it himself. No, everyone was like that. Who would slaughter a pig for pork belly or wring a chicken's neck for fried chicken? Most people couldn't. They ate because someone else did the killing. Human psychology was so hypocritical.
Han Yaseong decided to break that hypocritical chain. Whether someone else killed it or he did, eating meat was the same. But being unable to hunt and eat his own kill? That was ridiculous. From now on, he'd hunt and eat himself. That was the way to become a king. A king who never stained his hands with blood would be weak. That's why founding emperors were strong, but the last kings weak—they grew too feeble, watching their nations fall without lifting a finger because their hands were clean.
Han Yaseong didn't want to be a weak king like that. He wanted to be a strong one who severed enemies' lives and ravaged their wives and daughters before their corpses. Genghis Khan had been like that. He crushed foes and slept under their wives and daughters as blankets, calling it the height of pleasure. Thinking of that made his loins stir, and Han Yaseong suddenly craved world conquest. What fun it would be to conquer and subjugate the globe. He could topple superpowers with a flick of his finger, play with beauties from every nation until bored. Genghis Khan had lived that way. Han Yaseong wanted it too.
To get there, he needed to grow stronger and grow accustomed to taking lives. Genghis Khan was a great demon king who'd slain millions in conquest, yet he's always listed first among great conquerors. No matter how many he killed, he remained a legendary conqueror. If Nazi Germany had unified the world in World War II, Hitler would have been hailed as a great conqueror too—nay, an unprecedented hero and supreme conqueror, appearing as a god in every history book worldwide. He failed and became the ultimate villain, but every man harbored the desire to be such a grand villain at least once.
Han Yaseong was no different. He wanted to etch his name in history as a great hero, supreme conqueror, and grand villain. He had no intention of being a good king. He aspired to absolute kingship, capable of good and evil alike. So he had to kill the ostrich-chicken before him.
Pak!
With a sharp sound, an arrow flew from the crossbow he'd aimed with steely resolve. The distance was so close that it slammed into the ostrich-chicken's back in an instant.
Kwaaak!
The ostrich-chicken screamed and thrashed, whipping around. Its eyes burned with pain and rage. Fortunately, the other ostrich-chickens didn't help their kin; they cowardly scattered in all directions. Sensing a predator, nearby large animals thundered away too.
Han Yaseong hurriedly loaded another arrow. In that moment, the ostrich-chicken charged with a furious face, pounding the ground.
"Huh?"
Han Yaseong startled, fumbling the arrow and stumbling awkwardly. It was too close. The enraged ostrich-chicken's face was right in front of his nose. Just as he thought he'd die like this, the bird staggered. Its massive body slammed into his right shoulder.
Peok!
Han Yaseong tumbled backward. Luckily, he'd twisted away on impact, minimizing the shock. Still, it hurt badly, and he couldn't stand quickly. Looking up, he saw the arrow-pierced ostrich-chicken writhing on the ground. Blood poured from its ankle, seemingly slashed. Yadong circled it with dagger in mouth, poised for another strike. Apparently, as the bird charged, Yadong had ambushed from the side and slashed its ankle with the dagger. Less like saving him, more like insatiable hunting lust for meat.
The ostrich-chicken flailed on the ground, trying to rise. But with its ankle tendon severed, it kept collapsing after futile attempts. Seeing it, pity welled up. Ending it quickly felt like mercy, so he staggered to his feet, drew the true sword from his waist, shooed Yadong away, circled behind, and waited for an opening.
Ignoring Han Yaseong behind it, the ostrich-chicken struggled a while longer until exhaustion set in; it lifted its head and rested. Han Yaseong approached slowly, gripping the true sword with both hands, and severed its neck in one stroke.
Sak!
The head thudded to the ground. Blood fountained from the stump. Han Yaseong panicked. He recalled that blood scent drew carnivores. He had to strip the meat and go—fast. He stabbed the still-twitching, headless body in the back with the true sword.
Pook!
The blade shattered bone and sank deep into its chest. The trunk shuddered violently before going limp. Dead.
Han Yaseong hastily hacked off the thick leg attached to the haunch. It alone weighed over ten kilos—heavy even in one hand. But he needed both, so he severed the other too. Sheathing the true sword at his waist and slinging the crossbow on his back, he hugged the two legs and ran. Yadong dashed after, dagger in mouth. They looked just like hunters fleeing with their kill.
Han Yaseong and Yadong raced across the plain back to the earlier grass patch and collapsed to rest.
"Hah... hah..."
He'd run for his life, lungs burning. Yadong spat out the dagger and panted too. Still, scoring two ostrich-chicken legs felt great. Today was feast day. If they could just get back safely like this.